Harsh Reality
by WumpusMcgrumpus
Summary: A new group has set out to 'help' Zootopia and all of Mammaldom. Can Nick and Judy stop them? Will Judy step up and face her new role head on? Find out as she encounters a new Harsh Reality...


11:30 AM

Today was the annual Carrot Days festival, celebrated throughout the Tri Burrows, it was perhaps the largest gathering of Rabbits anywhere, at any time, even for the largest of mammals, it was a spectacular sight to behold…

The tight yet winding rows of stalls and attractions changed the mild green of the rolling hills to a haze of fiery reds, oranges and yellows and all around laughing children and crying vendors could be heard as life bristled and teemed around the event. Happy parents strolled along accompanied by roving gangs of kits, teenagers stole kisses in the shadows where nobody thought to look, and the old folk who could make it could usually be seen hunting around the food stalls or sitting and recanting tall tales for the young. Only the oldest and most decrepit rode on the back of large truck beds, ferrying them about from attraction to attraction. There was the carrot eating contest, pie eating contest (of which there was one for every flavor) darts contest, bowls competition, soccer games for juniors and seniors (the latter embarrassingly almost always resulted in at least 3 dad-on-dad fistfights), music contests and folk music played and a whole host of accompanying traditional fairground rides broke up the endless rows of stalls and shops. Tucked away towards the back were the infamous pale ale tents, which had a bad reputation for selling under the counter moonshine, but the local Sherriff had the tents on lockdown this year, nothing would slip past him... Not even the suspiciously light palette of empty caskets.

The only problem was hosting them all. Some 50 acres had been devoted to the festival, yet still the sprawl of tents and people extended well past this. Farmers would be complaining but right now the festival was all that anyone cared about. That, and the General Agricultural Goods competition, or the GAG competition where all the local farmers and cultivators gathered to have their produce rated, categories ranged from best taste to sheer size, whoever scored highest received an award and was assured to see a spike in sales as word spread they were the 'best in show'. This was all to be held in the grand church, situated atop a gently inclining hill in the center of the venue, from which everything could be seen.

12:30 PM

The judging would soon be beginning, and for about an hour now a steady stream of bunnies had been pouring through the main doors, each carrying or helping in carry some form of agricultural goods to be judged. Mainly carrots, but also various other vegetables, potent herbs or spices and the occasional fruit, blueberries (being the 'new' blackberries), were common in this field.

Every bunny was busy now, the hall was nearing full capacity and in its own way the hall was buzzing with anticipation and not too many hidden rivalries. Adding the much-needed edge to the otherwise jovial (and otherwise boring) festival. After all, what was a bit of friendly competition amongst friends? At least this was the attitudes of the onlookers and judges, who reviled in the gossip and sometimes scandalous affairs of the event, entertainment was hard to come by as a farmer, and really, what was a _cutsie rabbit_ going to do. By other mammals standards they were but harmless pranks. Still it was something to do, so for the most part officials ignored it.

13:00 PM

The judging had commenced and the tension in the air was high as the portly white rabbit and an entourage of judges wandered the room, measuring, smelling, scanning, appreciating and tasting the various produce on offer. As each table was systematically judged awards would be handed out on the spot, and depending on the rating a series of whooping or sobbing could be heard around the room as the meek rabbit's dreams came true or were shattered in an instant. The place where a farmers livelihood was made, that is what the competition represented to any aspiring rabbit.

The brightness of day hurt Tim's eyes as he tried to block it out with his hand, sweeping up behind the church he leaned against the wall and exhaled deeply, falling into a slump with his long black coat pooling around him. He reached up and lit his cigarette, puffing on it as he would when he was in a contemplating mood. Looking over the horizon, from atop the hill with the quaint sight and the faint laughter of people gracing his senses he thought about his next move. It was almost time, and he was getting bored…

Thumper was now behind the ale tents, dressed plainly to blend in he wore overalls with a white vest and red baseball cap. The gear should still be in place, "at least if that idiot police chief has anything to do with it," he thought to himself. Rolling up closer in the sleek black van he quietly switched it off, and stepped out, careful not to make a sound. Poking his head around a nearby flap to make sure no-one was watching, he entered the tent holding the various palettes and beer barrels, hopefully he could find it quickly, stepping up to the nearest palette of caskets, he lightly tapped the sides with a satisfying hollow ding ringing from each one. A smile slowly crept up his face.

Listening to the radio Rex's hands danced on the steering wheel. Again dressed plainly he wore only jeans with a blue baseball cap, exposing his white fluffy chest amidst the sea of brown that covered the rest of his body. It was almost time, where was Thumper? Glancing over towards the passenger seat he quietly examined the high-tech rods propped up against the headrest. This would be the groups defining moment. Finally, they would reveal themselves and bask in the forthcoming events, their cause was just and Rex relished to be a part of an event that would burn itself into history. He was finally part of something _bigger,_ something _great._ And his name would ring out as one of the nations most wanted. It was so, _reassuring_ for him. The music steadily continued and Rex gazed into the distance, daydreaming of his fame and infamy.

Runner was careful, removing all the relevant parts in order he methodically assembled his rifle. Polishing and cleaning as he went along, like a surgeon's knife his instrument of death would cut through anyone in its sights, precisely, with no excess. Cold and calculating Runner was dressed in a similar manner, since no-one would see him, he wore a skin tight black suit. Minimizing visibility and allowing him the move more freely, "no risks, no mistakes", this was his motto and it had kept him alive thus far, and hopefully long enough to see the mission through. He finished the assembly, using only the finest hollow point ammunition he made up a few magazines and set them aside ready, kneeling now he set the gun in front of him and lay down with it. Grabbing his binoculars, he brought them to his eyes, made relevant range adjustment…and waited.

13:15 PM

Thumper rolled up behind the church and turned the keys in the ignition, scanning the area for activity he heard nothing but his own heartbeat and could see little in the shadow of the building. Where was Tim? Suddenly the passenger door swung open and a small handgun pointed straight at Thumper appeared in front of a laughing Tim. Thumper, clearly startled snatched the gun from Tim (who was now wheezing) and bashed him hard over the skull. A blow which would have killed a lesser mammal, Tim just laughed even harder.

"Get out you fool and shut up. You're going to give us away, laughing and pointing guns all over the place." Stepping out of the Car Thumper walked his way round to the passenger side to a still wheezing Tim. Bringing the pistol back up he whipped the hysterical bunny again, this time inducing _some_ sort of sobering effect.

Bringing his gaze up towards his agitated boss, Tim still wore his smirk. "But boss, your face, oh my god boss it was great, honestly you should really keep an eye-."

Thumper brought the pistol back across Tim's face.

Stumbling backwards but remaining on his feet Tim stopped talking. Deciding he didn't want to agitate his boss further.

"Don't mistake me for a friend Tim, we work together, and at the moment you're not doing a good job."

"But-."

Taking a step forward Thumper cut him off. "Especially in the _covert_ department."

A small smile rising Tim responded, "but sir, I was just going to say you waving and hitting me with that pistol there is hardly helping either is it."

Fixing Tim with a disapproving look, and shaking his head Thumper sighed and simply walked past Tim to open the van back doors. Tim moved to meet him and together they slip the palette from the van and onto the grass.

"Did you get the right ones?"

Raising his arm to whip him again Tim winced, but the blow never came, instead Thumper again sighed and returned to cracking open the barrels. Each one half full to meet the same weight as a full beer keg, each barrel had a large store of bely fed ammunition, ready for Tim. Tim's excitement levels spiked with just from the sight. Now removing the barrels and flipping over the palette a large m60 machine gun was tapped to the underside. Specially shortened for a small mammal, yet still incredibly heavy, it was made especially for Tim. His excitement peaked Tim could no longer handle himself, shedding his coat and revealing a ropey mess of muscle he tore the machine gun from the palette (despite Thumpers best efforts to restrain him) Tim embraced the death dealing weapon like a lost child, lifting it easily and without fear.

Realizing there was nothing for it, Thumper stood back and admired (or pitied) the meathead psycho, the industry's greatest weapon, a living killing machine. "Alright, come on," moving forward and patting Tim's shoulder he picked up and handed Tim his coat, "we have to get you and everyone else ready." Tim just nodded his silent agreement, lugging his gun with him.

13:30 PM

A solitary blue flare rose up in the sky, amidst all the celebration it was easy to mistake it for some event signal or teenage fun exploit, but for everyone in the group, for all the rabbits involved it marked the beginning of a new era.

Rex was the first to respond, opening and leaning out of the car window he hurriedly shone a red laser pointer directly at the cross atop the church, making a fait red glimmer as it bounced of the gold embroidery. It was all going to plan, it was finally happening. He shut off the laser and exited his car, grabbing the high tech bars and a pistol from the glove box he quickly shoved them in a long duffle bag and pressed on towards the churches main entrance.

Sighting the flare only a moment later Runner mentally prepared himself for what was to come. Breathing slowly, he grabbed a magazine, snapped it in place and chambered a round, all in one fluid motion it was an action he had practiced often...

Clipping his M60 to the hip stabilizer Tim was now visibly shaking in excitement, Thumper just ignored this disturbing trait and draped Tim's long black jacket over his shoulders, in an effort to hide the gun. Fastening a neck clasp around his neck it stayed firmly in place, raising his head Tim looked at the ageing rabbit before him, "thanks mom" he said in a mocking tone. Thumper just tusked and shoved a large ammo box in Tim's chest.

"Here, set up your gun, and make sure it's well-oiled, we don't want a repeat of what happened in training."

Ah training, Tim took a moment to reminisce how he resorted to using a machete to finish off the dummy after his gun had seized up. Good times, good times…

Thumper pistol whipped Tim again to bring him back to reality.

Flinching hard this Tim was startled, not expecting the blow and being on the edge as it was, he dropped his bullets and grasped Thumper by the throat, easily lifting him from the ground he looked directly into his eyes, those old, terrified eyes, screaming out for more air as they bulged.

Tim realized who it was he was grasping and let go, dropping the rasping Thumper to a slump at his feet, "Sorry, you, you scared me" he mumbled, Thumper just looked up and waved him off.

"Go fool" Thumper gasped, "move now before we run out of time".

Apprehensive, Tim moved to pick up the box, when Thumper grabbed his wrist, "and don't do that ever again, or else you know the consequences". Gulping hard Tim knew what he meant. Picking up the ammunition box he hurriedly affixed it to his gun and moved towards the back door of the church. Looking back towards the still immobile form of Thumper he again hesitated.

Locking eyes once more, "GO" Thumper screamed.

Tim did not need telling twice.

Opening the back door and closing it behind him, Tim was shrouded in darkness, he was behind the stage and he needed to ensure he was alone, so as the show would not be interrupted…

Moving swiftly now a new demeanor had come over him, his brain switched from the unpredictable childlike brain to that of the trained killer. Lowering his large bulky M60 from his hip stabilizer so it brushed against his leg he produced a small pistol from the small of his back all the while continuing to move forward and onward. His sensitive hearing guiding him and he could hear the chatter of people coming from the main hall where the judging was taking place, with any luck he could reach the stage unnoticed. And then he heard the sobbing, behind stage. He was not alone. Sweeping his gun from side to side now, ears straight and acute he struggled with his poor night vision to see anything. "Curse this inferior species. Why couldn't we have evolved better eyes". He thought to himself, rounding the corner leading up to the stage a set of stairs lay before him, yet the small form of a child lay on one of the steps. The sobbing and crying had grown louder now and as Tim approached he found the noise more and more unbearable to listen to. Kneeling down next to the little bunny he spoke softly, "hey there little man, how's it goin eh? Why we crying?"

The child slightly startled by the older adults presence quickly calmed down when he realized it was another bunny, although he did wonder why he wore a long cloak? He guessed he was a performer. "Are you one of the performers? Performing in the annual Utopia play?"

"Why yes, yes I am, we couldn't find an actor for the predator, so I have to step in."

The little bunny found this odd, as his friend Earl (a lion cub) would be fulfilling this role. He was about to ask the strange rabbit in front of him about it when Tim interjected.

"But less about me, why are you here, of all miserable places?"

Looking back down the small bunny sniffed, "because of those mean Barrel-Jumpers, every year they cheat in the GAG competition, and every year they get away with it, we this year they, the-" a single tear rolled of the young bunny's nose, "they poisoned my pa's crops, it would have been perfect, we would have won. And now Bobby Barrel-Jumper says he'll beat me up if I tell everyone I know. I saw them do it, honest, I still have the bottles they thought they threw away."

"You went rooting through the trash to find the bottles and help your dad?"

The young rabbit nodded.

"And then you told Bobby you knew?"

Nodding his head again the young rabbit added, "I was going to tell the judge, but Bobby caught me going through the rubbish, I hate that Bobby, always starting fights in school and stealing my food."

"This Bobby character sounds like quite the juvenile, I think I should have a word with him… But thanks for telling me, your very brave, and if you'd like, I'll tell the judges for you."

"Really, you'd help me, thanks Mr." The young rabbit rose to embrace this strange miracle worker.

Tim raised his hand in a feign action to cup the kits head.

There was one thing still bothering the young rabbit though, "is Earl sick? I thought he was going to-"

Tim shot the young Rabbit through the head, a slight 'POP!' and small muzzle flash signaling the deed was done. A tiny shot for a tiny mammal. Sighing, Tim rose to his knees, cleaned the pistol with his coat, placed it back in the back of his pants and carried on up the stairs. Thinking nothing more of the terrible sin he had just committed.

Meanwhile…

Thumper had regained his composure and quickly stood up, the fool would nearly cost them the mission, he would have to be quick now, and hope Tim would be slow moving towards the stage. Rubbing his strained neck he walked outside and quickly moved towards the front of the church where Rex was waiting.

Making sure no one was near them, he gave Rex one quick glance, nodded his head, and set off back around the corner. No words, they weren't necessary. Rex knew everything he had to do. Nothing would ruin the defining moment of the group, especially not him.

Moving closer towards the door, he produced the metal rods from his duffel bag, and after a few seconds of fumbling remembered how to use them. Holding one perfectly horizontal from his chest (or as close as it could be) and against the great church doors, he pressed the small red button near the middle. With a force that nearly broke his arm the two sharp ends of the rod shot out with breakneck speed and burrowed themselves into the solid concrete door frame, clearly some form of minor explosive had been used, and Rex nervous to arm the second for fear it _would_ break his arm this time for sure. However, with steely determination not to let anyone down he moved to arm the second, raising it above his head yet still keeping it horizontal he again pressed the red button.

"Arggghhh" he cried out in pain, he sprained his wrist from the impact of the initial blast, cradling his hand he kneeled on the floor and wheezed. This was NOT going to plan, he needed to hurry before Tim arrived, where was he anyway? He should be going by now? A mixed blessing Rex prepared himself for the third and final bar. Again placing it horizontal but this time further down he braced for pain, placed his thumb over the button and looked away.

His wrist snapped.

"Oh fuck-, shit I've done it now" tearing his hand away from the bar he nursed it close to his chest and began moving away, looking at his poor broken hand he moved down the large hill racked with pain before bumping into an official of the fair.

Wedging his hand between himself and the overweight rabbit Rex winced with pain before looking up at his portly obstruction. A look of anger rising in his face.

Barely noticing the other rabbits pain (or his expression), the fat rabbit lorded over the poor bunny in front of him, before jabbing a large paw his way and addressing him in a broad, thick accent. "Saw you up there fiddling about with that there door, well I wasn't about to go marching up there for the likes of you let me tell you." Moving his pants further up his jiggling waist, the rabbit breathed in, "yep, you're going to have to remove them, they are obstructing public entry or exit from the church. "

Still cradling his broken hand, Rex wasn't listening, he was just getting madder and madder with the fat oafs incessant rambling. Looking up at the official (who was slightly taller the Rex) he stopped focusing on his arms and brought them to his side, his good arm balling into a fist.

"Now look here, we don't need any trouble, in 2 minutes there can be 50 more officials backing me up, you don't need this, I don't need this."

Disregarding these comments completely and in a fit of rage Rex raised his fist and brought it up in an uppercut, **hard**. Hard enough to hurt, hard enough to knock the official out and knock him over. Unconscious and drooling from the corner of his mouth other people had begun to take notice, running out in all directions one mother pushing her pram was so shocked she stood still and watched in horror. Not noticing or not caring Rex just picked up his duffle bag and produced the handgun he had stuffed in earlier. Ceremoniously checking the clip and pushing it back in the grip he lined up the barrel with the beaten officials' head; and fired, the shot ringing out in all directions, blood spraying upwards, the bright red plume staining the white on Rex's chest.

The mother screamed out in horror and fell to her knees, turning his attention to her, and without so much as a fledgling thought of mercy, shot her. Another CRACK of sound as the bullet left the chamber and found a new home in her skull, she died instantly. Leaving the now balling baby to be left alone amidst the horrors of this dark new world, Rex walked away, entered his car and drove off.

Thumper was now packing up, ready to receive Tim in a few minutes' time. Moving the palette and various empty barrels to the back of the van he placed his own handgun into one of the barrels as an extra precaution. Finishing up in the back he produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and began lighting it. Puffing lightly on the end he closed the van doors and made his way to the driver's seat, glancing at his watch he took note of the time and wondered what was taking Tim so long to start. By now he should have reached the stage surely, that is if he didn't encounter any problems… Dumb bunny. If he didn't hear shooting in the next minute, he would have to check on him.

Opening the van door and about to step inside he stopped midway when a loud crack rung out through the sky, not the rhythmic, thump he was expecting, more like a crack, a pistol? Rex. Damn, what had happened? Stepping down from the van and walking back round to the front of the church he peered around the corner. But because of the incline, he couldn't see the bodies at the foot of the hill, only the crowd of people and officials scurrying to and from the scene. Banging came from the front doors, they had heard the shots inside the great hall too. Damn, where was Tim? The fool will ruin us, thankfully nobody was trying to remove the bars yet, a small mercy for an operation quickly going wrong. Disregarding the operation for a moment he let his curiosity get the better of him and made a move to get closer to the scene, when suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

"Sir, are you the owner of the black van behind the church? We have reason to believe you are harboring stolen goods."

Thumper closed his eyes and let a small "fuck" slip from his mouth.

"Sir?" Inquired the official.

Turning around to meet the official rabbits gaze Thumper put on his best innocent smile and prepared himself for the worst. He did not need this right now.

"Sorry young man, but I don't happen to own the black van in question. Perhaps you could ask one of those mammals down there?" Gesturing over to the large crowd he did his best to move the officials attention away from him.

"Yes, yes sir I can see the crowd, but clearly everyone there is too busy to pay attention to me, besides I happened to see you leaving the van not a moment ago."

"Damn." Thumper froze. This was it, without him the operation would fail and the organization exposed. He should never have left the van, he should have let Rex handle himself and stuck to the plan. Now he was rattled.

"Now sir if you'd like to come with me I'm sure we can resolve this in a civil manner". Moving closer to Thumper the official made a move to lead Thumper away from the church.

No, not like this, not peacefully and not quietly. The officials arm now around his back Thumper did not move.

"Sir" the official shot Thumper a pleading look, "I'd prefer if you came peacefully."

"Well I'm very sorry official, but I don't think I'll be giving up that easily."

A moment of silence passed between the two, the official, confounded by Thumpers polite yet aggressive response was not ready for the heavy right hook Thumper threw for his chin. Missing and hitting further up his head the official was not knocked out but he did stumble heavily into the church wall. Not wasting time Thumper threw another punch, this time though the official dodged, Thumpers hand smashed into the opposing wall and he screamed out in pain, seeing his opportunity the official slammed into his stomach and tackled him to the floor. On top of him now Thumper tried to resist but the official had him pinned. Producing a pair of handcuff zip ties the official moved to tie his arms together, shaking and resisting as hard as he could his old body could not muster the strength to shove him off.

"I'm sorry sir" the official breathed heavily now "but this has to be done."

Damn, he was caught, it was all over. The operation would fail and the organization would be discovered. He had failed and he knew the consequences. A single solemn tear run down his eye as he mentally let go of all he held dear.

Runner watched the whole scene play out from his scope atop the mountain pass. Like watching a movie in his reticle he lay stock still, careful to not lose the picture, his target. With a heavy breath in steadying his heart beat time slowed, his movie playing in slow motion, he had to account for the long range and wind. Now more than ever he had to hit the target, this is what his years of training with the academy had amounted to, and now it had to pay off. With one short trigger pull his whole body shook from the powerful recoil, the gun spitting thunder from its barrel the deafening explosion hurt Runners ears. But he didn't care, he just carried on following the new red bead tracing along the sky line. Hoping to God it would find its mark.

The officials head exploded.

A smattering of hot red goop covered Thumpers upper body and face, the heavy body slumping backwards and rolling off of him from the force of the blast. Shook from the horrifying sight he swept blood from his eyes and scrambled to his feet. What happened, a bomb? Stray M60 bullet? No, no holes in the walls… Then what? He looked off to the distance and a slight glimmer caught his eye. Runner. Thank God _somebody_ had listened and stuck to the plan. And thank God he was good at his job.

Giving a dismissive wave to the watching Runner Thumper turned around and made his way back to the van. This time sticking to the plan.

Tim had finished his ascent, yet there was still a way to climb before his rose to the history books. Fingering his weapon by his side he kept it under the cover of his cloak, and walked out from behind the curtain.

Tim's boots made a sickening thud as he moved across the stage towards center mic. Signaling the beginning of the end most rabbits didn't even see him enter, too preoccupied with the main door, they were exactly where he wanted them. A life-sized shooting gallery, Tim was more than ready to play, but not before he got their attention. He needed them to see him, to have them realize their fate too late. Grabbing the mic he gently tapped it. Like some sixth sense had reached out and touched the panicking rabbits turned around as one, silence sweeping the crowd, everyone wondered who this stranger was. Standing a good foot taller than an average rabbit his presence was unsettling and foreboding, his long black coat masking the rest of his body all you could focus on was his eyes as they seemingly gazed back at every individual in the room.

Now he had everyone's attention, perfect. Drinking in their fear he stood for a moment longer, looking, scanning for candidates. Ah yes, the old judge at the left. Moving his mouth closer to the mic Tim in a crazy, unhinged address presented himself, like all great performers. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am tonight's entertainment," letting this sink in for a moment the rabbits in the hall looked at one another in confusion. A smile rising and his heart exploding in his chest Tim added "covering for Earl."

Keeping his right foot forward and moving his left foot back his coat parted and he raised his gun to point at the crowd. His thick, ropey muscles easily maneuvering the weapon the crowd looked on in fear of the huge death dealing bunny, his scared form and manic eyes being the last thing they ever saw Tim swept left, braced himself and shot the old judge through the chest, throwing his small old form backwards against the wall accompanied by a bright orange muzzle flash and a heavy chug that rung out around the room.

The hall exploded in a chorus of screams and frantic rabbits. Now furiously pushing against the doors.

Just like he had envisioned. Tim looked on with glee. Keeping his finger above the trigger he braced himself yet again, this time he would strafe all the way to the right and back again. Tacking aim the best he could from his hip he moved his finger closer to the trigger and pulled it. No stopping him now he slowly strafed right, the powerful machine at his hip turning out rounds at an indiscriminate pace. Sending his coat rippling behind him with each shot fired. He was thankful now he kept his baby well-oiled as he reached the end of his first strafe right, the bodies now piling up behind those still struggling with the door, soon they would face a wall from behind too. Not pausing so as to allow any form of reprisal he swept right, dashing yet more blood against those struggling in front, god there were still so many. His wrist hurting from the heavy recoil he started to pull upwards towards the end of his run, his trajectory rising more than a few arms and heads were ripped or blown up. Adding to the wall and staining those panicking in yet more gore. It looked like a scene from a video game. And there was still so much more to go.

The horrible scene seemingly playing out endlessly as bunnies watched in horror as hot streaks of death approach closer, and closer, no break or pause, just a steady march of doom. There was no hope left, families huddled together only to be eviscerated in the next instant, the old and decrepit simply sat down in a pool of despair before they met their maker, the young and aspiring had their dreams cut short, wails of anguish leaving their lips with the frustration of leaving a life unlived. It was all too much to bear, when suddenly a ray of hope appeared. A single crack appearing in the heavy door trapping the diminishing horde of bunnies. For some this was enough, for others it was a false dawn. Tim seeing this sped up his killing, he was not going to be beaten, he would see the mission through.

But the crack kept growing, and the great doors started to bulge, just one more minute and they would be open, but there would be no one left in a minute, everyone had to push harder.

"PUSH" rang out around the hall as the desperate pleas to the hopeless rang out. "WE'RE ALMOST THERE" the people at the front now leading the charge everyone stood to lend their weight to the effort, even if it did mean being mowed down, they would help their fellows escape. Although the bars did not budge, indeed they had been designed with this in mind. Instead all their effort was concentrated at the top of the door, with the upper most hinges coming loose. Soon an opening would appear at the top and the people could escape.

But now the tremendous effort pushing the door was halting, as more and more rabbits were gunned down their collective strength sputtered and died. Tim's gun glowed red at this point, the shortened barrel not intended for such long use was too hot for him to touch, and now the recoil had started to take its toll on his hulking form, most notable his wrists, but also his shoulders and hips. He could not keep up the rate, so now he paused, leaving the hall filled with only screaming, sobbing cries as the small crowd continued struggling with the door. Taking the gun of the hip stabilizer he rested it against the ground and looked up at the pitiful sight before him, taking pleasure in the euphoria of his murder he could only smile.

But he did not have time to daydream, when the great church doors began giving way, presenting an opening at the top! He quickly shouldered his gun, something he had expressly been told not to do and let loose another volley of bullets. Bodies clambering to the opening suddenly fell limp on those below as the bullets pierced their small bodies straight through the wooden door. Pain ripped through Tim's shoulder with each thud from his gun, the job was almost done, but still a few more bunnies persisted in extending Tim's torment. He had to finish this, he had to kill them all. For the organization.

Bodies now piled up against the door, making it teeter against the relatively low bars. As more bodies piled up the motion became worse, extending the gap for the few clamoring bunnies desperate to escape.

It was harder to pick the living out now. As they climbed over their fallen comrades their bodies merged against the backdrop of similar colors. Making Tim's life all the more harder, and his shoulder ever more painful as he wrestled with the heavy machine gun/improv rifle.

The end was in sight, the hole was so close now for the bunnies left.

It was almost over, only three left, **THUD** , two left, **THUD** , one left.

Finally, stepping on another unlucky bunnies head the young rabbit had reached the top, gasping for air, physically and mentally exhausted he just had to pull himself up and over the door…

 **THUD**

Tim's shoulder cracked under the pressure and his arm went limp.

Dropping his gun and falling to his knees, he tried moving his arm only to be met by excruciating pain, it was broken. Still, he took the time to admire his work as he looked at the lifeless pile of bodies mounted up against the great church doors, a ray of shining light encapsulating the massacre, it appeared God himself was reaching down to carry the souls of the deceased away from the vile scene. Tim just laughed at the disparity of it all. Everybody was dead, and this would go down in the history books as one of the worst crimes against mammality ever seen.

Pulling his gun against the floor Tim quickly left, the police and county sheriff's department would be here soon, and when they did they would find one hell of a scene. But they wouldn't find Tim. No, he was determined to escape, moving down the stairs the butt of his gun dragged along each step, maneuvering his way over the fallen child (but letting his gun hit the lifeless form on the way down) he had made it to the exit and so with a sickening crunch from his bad shoulder he burst through the escape and fell to the ground, where pain and exhaustion took him.

He didn't remember much of what happened next, vaguely recalling being dragged to the back of the van by a struggling Thumper. Picking up Runner on a mountain pass, and being returned to the depot laying on a stretcher. From here he passed out completely. But at least he was safe, knowing the police could not find him here.

They had done it, gotten away, leaving a wake of destruction so large it would shake the Tri-Burrows to their very core for decades to come.


End file.
